


Come Back to Me

by antheiasilva



Series: Glitter [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, Attachment, Friends to Lovers, Jedi Code, M/M, Mutual Pining, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, general kenobi is so shiny, jedi emotions, porn and feels, qui-gon can't even, reflections on the GAR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheiasilva/pseuds/antheiasilva
Summary: In the Jedi Temple, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan find each other as their world turns upside down and the Republic prepares for war.-Qui-Gon thanks the Force that his duty will include protecting his—Hiswhat? Padawan? Lover? General?He flushes at the memory of their kiss. Though they have scarcely spoken since the medbay of the Defiant, their promise pulses alive and unwavering in his heart.I trust you to do your duty and never let this compromise your responsibilities. And I promise you the same.He has no name for what Obi-Wan is to him now.-Sequel to Glitter and Promise, but can stand alone.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Glitter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1531013
Comments: 55
Kudos: 201





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Tohje for reading an early version of this and for her enthusiasm.
> 
> Many thanks to nauticilious for her keen eye and clever brain and encouragement.
> 
> And many thanks to Hubblegleeflower for her likewise keen eye and insightful comments and writing solidarity.
> 
> All mistakes, awkwardness, bumpiness etc. are my own.

Jedi are trained from infancy that the way forward is _slow_. Moving without intention, without groundedness, without breath, is to react instead of act. It is dangerous because a Jedi risks missing information, openings, other possibilities. Hence, _patience_ , even in the middle of a conflict. Finding time, finding breath, finding the Force can make all the difference to the outcome. 

There is, of course, a time to deliberately surrender to honed instinct and the Force and trust one’s brain and body to find a way through, such as in a battle, earthquake, or crashing ship, but that is different from snap judgements and hastily constructed plans aimed at defending against uncertain threats. That would be perilously close to acting out of fear. 

Qui-Gon thinks of this as he watches the new Grand Army of the Republic clear civilian crafts from the commandeered Coruscant air fields to build a staging area for the new Acclamator class assault cruisers. 

The speed of the Senate’s — and the Jedi Council’s — response to the Military Creation Act and the escalated Separatist threat alarms him. There is no other way for him to describe it. He inhales slowly, allowing his fear to peak with the pause in his breath. He waits, feeling his way through the sharp urgency, noticing the speed of his heart, the narrowing of his vision and the driving need to do _something_. 

I am afraid, he thinks to himself simply, without reproach. It makes sense, after all. He is watching the dismantling of peace in real time. He has only been on Coruscant for a few hours, and he has spent all of it overseeing the air strip. The first set of cruisers will be landing soon and the new clone troopers assigned to temporary barracks. The rows and rows of identically armoured men marching in time give him chills. Without disrespect to the men themselves, there is something unnatural about the sudden appearance of the Republic’s war machine. And he knows better than most what kind of violence and darkness Dooku is capable of. The Living Force already ripples and twists with suffering, and whispers of more. A tidal wave of blood will sweep the galaxy, of that Qui-Gon is certain. 

The spike of fear is sharp, like a burning wound in his gut, and he draws on the Living Force, like a fresh stream of water rushing over him, waits as the sensation begins to cool and dissolve. He breathes out slowly, as if he could stretch time with his exhale. 

He will not give into fear, he promises himself as he unfolds his arms and he releases the lingering sparks with a flick of his fingers. They — he and Obi-Wan, the Order, the Republic — they will find a way. After all, no war lasts forever and they have the Light on their side. 

Surely.

Several hours later he is flying back to the Temple with several other masters and padawans, and too many clone troopers for his liking. Jedi are not soldiers, and he cringes at the thought of the Republic military infiltrating the Temple’s hallowed halls. Whatever Sifo-Dyas’ true plans, Qui-Gon has no doubt that he was guided by the Dark. The Jedi Order commissioning an army is nothing short of an obscenity after a thousand years of devotion to peace. 

His comm chirps as a message comes through. The text reads: Attn: All members. Re: High Council Report, 21:00 hours, Chamber of Conclave. 

A wave of foreboding washes over him. It has been decades since a convening of the entire Temple. The Chancellor and the Council have evidently come to resolution about the question of the role of the Jedi in the GAR, and in a short matter of hours. He can’t shake the feeling that the future is unravelling before his eyes. 

Another comm chirp. Still text-only. This time from Obi-Wan: Anakin out of surgery. Stable. Go to the healers when you can. See you at all hands.

He cannot help the sense of warmth and calm spreads through him and he marvels at it a little.

Obi-Wan. Darkness is spreading through the galaxy and yet there is Obi-Wan. 

Yes. They have the Light on their side. 

Surely.

***

Three days pass in a blur. From the moment the conclave concludes, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are in constant motion. The Temple hums with activity, preparations, training. Military _assignments_.

The deceased Council members must be replaced. Qui-Gon is nominated to the Council. He refuses Mace with a glare after a particularly bracing argument about patience and diplomacy. The Council is recalcitrant, as usual, and he is disappointed but not surprised. He is, however, surprised when Obi-Wan is nominated in his place and accepts, head bowed in respect. They name him Master early and induct him without ceremony. Qui-Gon wants to feel proud.

Qui-Gon protests vehemently against the lack of a Trial for Anakin and is mocked by Yoda for his trouble: “A traditionalist are you now, Master Qui-Gon? Know better you do than this Council you refuse to join?” He bites back a retort because of the pleading look Obi-Wan gives him from his new Council chair.

The meeting with the Chancellor and the newly appointed officers of the Grand Army of the Republic is the worst. In the new temporary military base in the Senate district, several hundred Jedi Masters are given the rank of General. His gut twists in revolt. He finds himself planning to reject the commission, but then Obi-Wan is chosen as High Jedi General along with Mace Windu and Shaak Ti, and he cannot bear to refuse in favour of becoming a Temple custodian, the only position offered to conscientious objectors — except leaving the Order, and he is not so disillusioned as to contemplate that yet, especially after Dooku's defection. He will serve under Obi-Wan. He thanks the Force that his duty will include protecting his— 

His _what_? Padawan? Lover? General? 

He flushes at the memory of their kiss. Though they have scarcely spoken since the medbay of the Defiant, their promise pulses alive and unwavering in his heart.

_I trust you to do your duty and never let this compromise your responsibilities. And I promise you the same._

He has no name for what Obi-Wan is to him now. 

***

Qui-Gon is invited to every War Council Meeting. He knows Dooku best, the Council reasons. His head and heart ache from trying to read his fallen master’s motivations and potential tactics from half a galaxy away.

Dooku is a brutal man, a cruel man, he tells them. He always has been. 

At least Yoda has the grace to look away. 

***

The first time he sees Obi-Wan with his hair buzzed military-short, polished bracers on his forearms, Republic insignia on his shoulders, he cannot breathe, though from dismay or lust he cannot tell.

He watches Obi-Wan settle and sharpen under the weight of authority. 

He is reminded of a conversation he once had with a Mandalorian potter, thirty — no, forty— years ago now, while watching her lower glazed vessels into her kiln. The fire hardens and brightens, forges the glossy exterior, she had explained. Strength at the expense of flexibility, he’d remarked, thinking himself very clever. Her reply had been patronizing, but not unkind: Is there any other way, young Jedi? 

He hopes there is, though he cannot deny that Obi-Wan looks striking in his Council seat with the setting Coruscant sun glinting off his boots and beard.

***

It’s late in the evening of the fourth day after Geonosis, when Obi-Wan shows up at Qui-Gon’s door unannounced. 

“I hear you have a briefing for me on Eriadu,” Obi-Wan says, sweeping into his quarters, thrumming with energy, though he looks exhausted. Dark circles frame his eyes, and his pallor does not improve when he’s out of the harsh hallway lights.

Qui-Gon blinks at the lack of greeting. “Yes,” he says with a huff. “I’m almost done.” He has been preparing a report on political stability in the Seswenna sector for the last few hours.  
With its nexus of hyper lanes, securing the Eriadu system against the Confederacy is crucial and Qui-Gon is one of the few (living) Jedi who have been there in the last year. 

"Excellent,” Obi-Wan replies, shrugging off his cloak and tossing it onto a nearby armchair.  
“I leave tomorrow,” he says, more to Qui-Gon’s conservator, than to Qui-Gon, because he is already in the kitchen. He begins rooting through the cupboards, looking for something. 

"What?” Qui-Gon says, shocked. _Tomorrow._ So soon. The Council had scheduled the first campaigns to leave in almost a ten-day. He had expected, hoped for, more time. He’d barely seen Obi-Wan in the last few days. They were supposed to…they had planned…He should say something. Let Obi-Wan know he still wants to — 

“But, Anakin?" is what comes out of his mouth. 

"There isn't time. Yoda will cut his braid when he returns from Naboo," Obi-Wan says. He pulls a dusty bottle of Corellian brandy out of the back of Qui-Gon’s cupboard and sets it on the counter.

"Why?" Qui-Gon asks, raising his eyebrows at the bottle. 

"Reports have Grievous closing on Bith and that’s too close for anyone’s liking. We need to secure Eriadu now or risk losing the Hydian Way.” Obi-Wan fishes two glasses out of the dish rack and starts pouring the amber liquid into each of them. The clink of glass on glass echoes through the small apartment. Qui-Gon holds his breath.

"I'm sending you to Thyferra,” Obi-Wan says, handing Qui-Gon his drink while staring through his right shoulder.

Qui-Gon narrows his eyes, regarding the liquor and Obi-Wan with suspicion. "The Inner Rim? That sounds… safe."

"It is.” Obi-Wan’s tone is clipped. He takes a sip and grimaces before striding into the living area.

"Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan stops and spins around. "No. I know you. You hate this. I can see your distaste every time you say the word General. Well, I can't do anything about that, but I can put you on the most Jedi of missions: protecting our supply of bacta."

"This is a strange role reversal,” Qui-Gon says, measured and careful. He’s not sure what do with Obi-Wan in this mood — mode? — that he’s never seen before. Later, he will term this version of hyper-focused and decisive Obi-Wan “General Kenobi,” and he will become accustomed to the coolness and directness. Now, however, he finds himself...unsettled at Obi-Wan _giving him orders_.

"Yes, well, leave it to you to always be an outlier,” Obi-Wan says, huffing in that exasperated tone of his that is usually reserved for Anakin.. He runs his free hand through his hair. "Reports have Dooku heading for Raxus. You should be far enough away,” Obi-Wan continues, draining his glass and setting it down on the dining table with a click. There is a fierceness in his eyes when he finally looks at Qui-Gon. He is expecting a fight, Qui-Gon realizes.

"Obi-Wan,” he says, voice low. “I am prepared to fight on the front lines. I don't need protecting.” He sighs, concern in his gaze. He does not want to censure Obi-Wan, but this worries him. They promised.

"Humour me. Dooku was too interested in you for my liking.” Obi-Wan stares at one of the dining room chairs as if he’s contemplating sitting, and then Qui-Gon realizes it’s an excuse to avert his eyes once more. “The Council agrees,” Obi-Wan says, softer, with a new hint of unease.

Qui-Gon snorts. Force, he is going to have to get used to Obi-Wan and the Council teaming up, isn’t he? He pulls out a chair and sits down heavily. “Well, if the _Council_ agrees...” He fights the urge to roll his eyes, sighs and takes his first sip of brandy. It burns, sweet and bitter. He squeezes his eyes against the sting and draws in a long breath. 

_Patience. Serenity._

When he opens his eyes, Obi-Wan is standing over him, blue eyes bright and searching. He is about to lay a hand on Qui-Gon’s arm. His fingers graze Qui-Gon’s sleeve. 

The air seems to thicken and slow and Qui-Gon becomes acutely aware of their proximity, the rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s breath, the line of his shoulders and plane of his chest. He is broader and more muscular now than he has ever been, and the armour accentuates this. The crows feet at his eyes are new, as are the flecks of white at his temples. Age and authority suit him and Qui-Gon suppresses a shiver.

Obi-Wan is handsome in ways that confuse and compel him.

"Sometimes I thought it must have been a dream," Obi-Wan whispers. 

They are so close, Obi-Wan is standing in the space between Qui-Gon’s knees and Qui-Gon can feel Obi-Wan’s breath against his forehead. His mouth goes dry as Obi-Wan runs his fingers up Qui-Gon’s arm and shoulder to the side of his jaw. His touch is light, reverent, as if he can barely believe he is allowed to touch. Qui-Gon knows because he feels the same way when he reaches up to caress Obi-Wan’s cheek. 

His beard is softer without the grit and sweat of Geonosis. 

"I know," Qui-Gon breathes up at him. "Me too."

They lock eyes, and Qui-Gon thinks of times when intentional surrender to instinct and the Force is advisable, necessary, prudent. A technique not just for battlefields and natural disasters and crashing ships, he thinks, as they draw closer and closer.

The world narrows to Obi-Wan's lips.

Obi-Wan tastes like salt and iron, and brandy and something vaguely sweet that Qui-Gon remembers from all those years ago. Qui-Gon runs his fingers lightly along the rough surface of Obi-Wan’s tabards, gingerly, as if the warm solidity of Obi-Wan’s chest will evaporate if he presses too hard.

The building heat in Qui-Gon's groin flares to an ache as Obi-Wan kisses him gently, like they have all the time in the galaxy, like they aren’t about to bend the Order’s rules to breaking point.

Like he isn’t leaving tomorrow for war.

“I want to remember this,” Obi-Wan says against his lips. “I want to take it with me.”

The Order’s injunction on possessions be damned. 

“Yes,” Qui-Gon rasps, throat tight.

Obi-Wan guides Qui-Gon’s arms around his waist and leans closer. He deepens the kiss, tongue feather-light against Qui-Gon’s lips, asking.

Desire flares white-hot in Qui-Gon’s gut as Obi-Wan’s tongue finds his. Qui-Gon slides his hands up Obi-Wan’s back, crushes Obi-Wan against him, marvelling at the feel of him under his hands.

Solid. Warm. Alive.

The relief that floods through him is staggering. He has been afraid, and trying so hard not to be, observing and releasing his emotions, moving through his duties. He has been unaware of a whispery, shaky fear that makes the world staticky and too bright, hidden beneath his Jedi calm.

But now, here, with Obi-Wan — lips smooth against his, breath and life thrumming under his hands, hair falling against Qui-Gon's face, heat of Obi-Wan’s groin pressed against his ribs — he is anchored.

He knows then with stark clarity that he has been scared for a long time, long before the war, of losing Obi-Wan, not only to a violent galaxy, but to his own folly. Wrought by silence and distance, Obi-Wan’s absence has become an ancient wound, normalized and lifting at last. The tangled knot in his core begins to unravel, and he aches to feel Obi-Wan in those deep places, already easing under the balm of his presence, his touch. 

Above him, Obi-Wan moans and rocks his hips against Qui-Gon. "I want you, Qui-Gon,” he says, voice low and rough. “I’ve wanted you for 6 years, 7 months and 23 days, and seven years before that."

“I —” Qui-Gon chokes on his words, overcome by the surge of _want_. His heart hammers in his chest. Tears sting his eyes. He gasps for air.

Obi-Wan looks down at him with eyes full of longing and lust and another, unspeakable emotion.  
Qui-Gon’s heart clenches at seeing his own feelings reflected in Obi-Wan’s eyes. How? How can this be happening?

He has become so unaccustomed to joy, it feels like pain.

“Please,” he whispers. “Obi-Wan.” He pauses, swallows, drags his hands down to the small of Obi-Wan’s back and tips his forehead into Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan smooths the hair at Qui-Gon’s temples.

“Obi-Wan,” he groans, fighting for breath, for some stillness in the desire that threatens to overwhelm him. He inhales slowly through his nose, taking in the scent of Obi-Wan that he — Force help him — remembers so clearly. 

He tilts his face up to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes and breathes.

“Take me to bed, Obi-Wan.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another pile of heartfelt thanks to my amazing betas hubblegleeflower, nauticilious and Tohje. This fic wouldn't be here without your brilliant brains.
> 
> Mistakes, typos and awkward phrasings are all my own.
> 
> Happy Valentine's day Qui/Obi community! Thanks for being the best! In true fandom tradition, let me tell you how much I appreciate you by giving you some porn!

“Take me to bed, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes darken as he sucks in a breath and grips Qui-Gon’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Force, Qui-Gon,” he chokes, eyes squeezed shut. He sounds like he’s been punched. Obi-Wan scrapes a hand over his face and exhales slowly. “Yes,” he breathes, kissing Qui-Gon fiercely. “Fuck. Yes.”

When Obi-Wan pulls back, his blue eyes are sparkling. 

"It's a strange thing, when dreams come true," Obi-Wan says simply, and takes Qui-Gon’s hand.

Qui-Gon’s heart pounds as Obi-Wan leads him to the bedroom. The younger man’s expression is serious, brows furrowed, like he’s working out a puzzle. He stops in front of the bed and kisses Qui-Gon gently as he unbuckles Qui-Gon’s belt and obi, tossing them aside. It takes Obi-Wan a moment to unsnap his bracers and shoulder guards he wears now, even in the Temple. Qui-Gon concentrates on breathing and quelling the twisting in his gut.

Last time was impulsive and adrenaline-fueled and driven by raw need. Now they have time, and intention. It is dizzying to watch Obi-Wan be as methodical and thoughtful about this as he is about anything else. Obi-Wan is so much more controlled and contained than he was years ago. Qui-Gon cannot help but feel as if their roles have reversed. He will be the one melting, shattering under Obi-Wan’s hands, and he has never been so willing to be overwhelmed.

Obi-Wan sits Qui-Gon down on the bed and climbs onto his lap, both hands on Qui-Gon’s face, eyes piercing. Obi-Wan's hands wind into his hair as they kiss, panting and breathless. Years of restrained passion come roiling to the surface. The Force thrums. 

Qui-Gon slides trembling hands along Obi-Wan’s thighs, daring to touch. His damp palms catch on Obi-Wan’s leggings. Obi-Wan rolls his hips, slips his tongue deeper. The weight of Obi-Wan against him, the heat of Obi-Wan’s erection so close to his, his hands on Obi-Wan’s perfect ass: Qui-Gon's cock strains uncomfortably against restricting fabric. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Obi-Wan’s hands start to wander, pulling at tabards and tunics. He kisses his way down Qui-Gon's chest, peeling open the layers of tunics. His mouth is a hot brand against Qui-Gon's skin. 

"Last time… I wanted to...there wasn't time..." Obi-Wan says between kisses.

Qui-Gon isn’t quite sure what Obi-Wan is talking about until he slides off Qui-Gon’s lap to kneel between his legs. Something like an electric shock darts through him when Obi-Wan kisses his cock through his leggings and smallclothes. He jerks involuntarily, gasping. Obi-Wan looks up questioningly and Qui-Gon can barely breathe as he nods. Obi-Wan smiles and he tugs his leggings down and takes his cock in his mouth with a groan. 

Qui-Gon bites back a cry as wet heat envelops him. His breath is gone. His blood is…elsewhere. Obi-Wan’s alarmingly skilled tongue is sliding and pressing and _teasing_. He glances down and that's a mistake because Obi-Wan looks up at him with lust in his eyes and swallows more of Qui-Gon’s length. His cock hits the back of Obi-Wan’s throat and Obi-Wan somehow keeps sucking, and all sensation narrows to soft, silky, wet, tight and oh Force he’s going to—if he doesn’t—

It takes all of his control to resist his building orgasm. He focuses on tiny details: the tickle of Obi-Wan’s beard, the slight pain where Obi-Wan’s fingers dig into his thighs, the woven texture of the bedspread under him. 

"Obi-Wan," he chokes out, brushes Obi-Wan's cheek with his thumb and pulls back, eliciting small moan of protest. “Wait, wait. I'm going to come.”

“Good. That's the idea,” Obi-Wan says, with a flash of a grin.

Qui-Gon shakes his head. “Not yet.” He wants Obi-Wan naked against him, wants to see him, touch him, feel him above him—closer… _deeper_. He is becoming acutely aware of an aching emptiness where Obi-Wan should be. 

“Will you…?" Qui-Gon flushes, heart pounding. He should be able to ask this. 

"Yes?" Obi-Wan asks, brows furrowed. 

"I…want...to feel you…" His voice is rough and shaky even to his own ears. 

"Yes?" Obi-Wan asks again, breath hitching. His eyes widen. The heat of his palms burns through Qui-Gon’s leggings. His fingers tighten on Qui-Gon’s knees.

Qui-Gon forces himself to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. He draws in a slow breath to ease the lurching-squeezing feeling in his core. He fails, spectacularly, but presses on because if they are going to do this, if they are going to keep doing this, Obi-Wan deserves more than half-truths and hiding. And so Qui-Gon swallows his shame and his fear and takes both of Obi-Wan’s hands in his and whispers, “Everywhere, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth falls open, and he blushes. "Ah.” He looks down as a smile breaks across his face. “Say it, Qui-Gon? Please," he asks, dragging his eyes back up to meet Qui-Gon's and holding his breath.

Qui-Gon's heart is racing and every millimeter of his skin feels like it's on fire.

“I want you inside me," he breathes. The declaration feels solemn, portentous—like the words to a ritual, or a prayer.

“Oh Force. Yes,” Obi-Wan gasps, eyes welling. He surges upwards to seize Qui-Gon’s mouth in a desperate kiss that tastes like salt, and Obi-Wan, and the intimately familiar scent of his own pre-cum. It’s hot and bewildering, but Qui-Gon doesn’t have time to process it because Obi-Wan is stripping off their clothes in between fierce kisses, spreading Qui-Gon out across the bed and climbing on top of him. He kisses his way across Qui-Gon’s chest, teeth grazing hardened nipples.

Qui-Gon runs shaking hands over the curve of Obi-Wan’s ass and the planes of his back, savouring smooth skin and powerful muscles as Obi-Wan moans against him, swollen cock twitching against Qui-Gon’s inner thigh. Qui-Gon sinks his hands into Obi-Wan’s hair and pulls him into a biting kiss, twisting his hips to align them. 

“I want to memorize every inch of you. I want to remember,” Obi-Wan says, voice low, rolling his hips to press their cocks together.

“There will be more times, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon hears himself reply, as a note of truth rings in the Force. 

Obi-Wan blinks. He hears it too. 

“As the Force wills,” Obi-Wan says solemnly.

“Come up here,” Qui-Gon says, tugging Obi-Wan upwards. “I want to taste you.” Obi-Wan scrambles for a moment to maneuver himself to sit on Qui-Gon's chest and Qui-Gon takes his leaking cock in his mouth. 

The sense-memory of the scent and taste of seven years ago is so strong that he has a flash of Obi-Wan’s knees on his shoulders, holding Obi-Wan’s hips while he writhes and howls. Qui-Gon swirls his tongue around the thick head of Obi-Wan’s cock, admiring the shape and size and sensitivity. Above him Obi-Wan shakes and cries out. 

Obi-Wan is not a large man, but he is impressively endowed. Qui-Gon’s insides melt at the thought of Obi-Wan breaching him. He longs to know what it will be like for Obi-Wan to take him.

He grips Obi-Wan's ass, driving him deeper into his throat and revels in sucking the velvety hardness. Obi-Wan falls forward with a shout, catching himself on the headboard and bucking his hips against Qui-Gon’s mouth.

“Fuck! Qui-Gon!” Obi-Wan sobs, arching back. 

Qui-Gon braces his hands against Obi-Wan’s ribs to steady him and continues to move his tongue. Obi-Wan squirms above him, panting. 

He's so beautiful he could touch him forever.

The muscles of Obi-Wan’s arms and chest are flexed as he grips the headboard. Sweat has started to bead in his chest hair. There’s more of it now, with threads of white. Qui-Gon smooths his hand across Obi-Wan’s chest, tracing scars he doesn’t remember. He prays to every midichlorian and ancient Jedi mystic and gods old and new that Obi-Wan will return to him without more scars.

“Qui-Gon. I need...” Obi-Wan chokes. His eyes are squeezed shut, tears gathering at the corners. 

The near-desperation in Obi-Wan’s voice resonates deep within Qui-Gon. He hums a noise of agreement and nudges Obi-Wan’s hips further down his chest as he relinquishes Obi-Wan’s cock. 

Obi-Wan inhales sharply as the cool air meets wet, sensitized flesh. He tumbles forward onto Qui-Gon’s chest, gasping for a moment before dragging eager fingers over the muscles of Qui-Gon’s arms and chest, and then kissing his way down Qui-Gon’s stomach. Obi-Wan licks his cock again, and Qui-Gon lets out a hiss and fists his hands in the bedsheets, desperate to withstand the intensity of the sensation as Obi-Wan’s tongue travels lower and lower, caressing his aching balls and sneaking between his cheeks.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon growls, a benediction and warning. 

Obi-Wan nods, want radiating off of him as he sucks two fingers into his mouth and then slips them between Qui-Gon’s buttocks. 

“Have you...before?” Obi-Wan asks breathlessly.

Qui-Gon shakes his head. He can’t imagine this will surprise Obi-Wan, but he is unprepared for the brightness of his smile.

“You honour me,” Obi-Wan whispers, slowly pressing his fingers inside.

“Always,” Qui-Gon answers, heart hammering in anticipation and the already exquisite stretch. In the space of a few breaths he finds himself open and aching and so painfully close. But it’s not enough. The yawning need inside him pulses stronger and stronger. 

“ Obi-Wan,” he chokes. “Now. _Please_.

“Oh, Qui-Gon. I...Yes—” Obi-Wan answers breathlessly, flushed and smiling. 

Obi-Wan leans forward and kisses him deeply as he positions his weeping cock against Qui-Gon’s entrance and pushes gently, almost tentatively. His expression is serious as he searches Qui-Gon’s face for signs of pain.

Qui-Gon gasps and smiles as reassuringly as he can. He can feel himself opening up to Obi-Wan, not only in body, but in spirit, like a last and final barrier between them is evaporating. There’s a sweetness and light in Obi-Wan’s presence he has always felt and yet shielded himself from. _No longer_ , he tells himself. He grasps Obi-Wan’s bicep and nods, welcoming Obi-Wan with kind of trust he has never given another being in the universe. 

Obi-Wan inhales in surprise, sensing the shift in the Force. Eyes wide and full of awe, he brushes Qui-Gon’s check with a trembling hand and breathes Qui-Gon’s name as he presses into him.

The feel of Obi-Wan’s sliding into him, filling him is— 

He has has no words. There are no words. He exhales long and slow, surrendering to Obi-Wan and the Force.

The world slows down, almost seems to stop. There is a sensation something like wholeness, calm, like a painful vibration has finally been turned off. He has felt this kind of rightness during meditation before, but never so physically. There is a simultaneous passion and serenity, like he’s on the edge of being overwhelmed but the solidity of contact with Obi-Wan is grounding even as it is exciting.

Qui-Gon swallows and squeezes his eyes shut, straining to hold on until Obi-Wan can join him. 

Obi-Wan begins to move, slowly at first, rocking his hips. Qui-Gon meets him thrust for thrust, heels digging into the mattress, marvelling at every new flicker of pleasure.

Obi-Wan's eyes glitter and Qui-Gon can see the other man is struggling, can feel him trembling throughout his whole body, a vibrating string pulled taut and ready to snap. He longs to feel Obi-Wan moving inside him _unrestrained_. He wants to see Obi-Wan wild.

“Oh Force, Obi-Wan. Please,” Qui-Gon urges, meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze. “You won’t… hurt...me,” he promises, rolling his hips and pushing back harder against Obi-Wan’s movements. 

The shift in pressure sparks something in Obi-Wan. His eyes go dark. He snaps his hips forward so sharply that the Qui-Gon can feel the impact in his shoulders and jaw. Qui-Gon shivers as Obi-Wan hauls his hips higher. For the first time in his adult life, he feels _small_. It is thrilling. 

He hears himself cry out when Obi-Wan speeds up. 

“Obi-Wan, I— Yes, Force, yes. I can’t—you…” 

“Qui-Gon, Oh Qui-Gon. I want… you feel so… fuck. please, please,” Obi-Wan answers. He leans down and kisses Qui-Gon almost harshly before leaning back and driving into him harder. 

The sensation of Obi-Wan... _pounding_... into him is nothing less than astonishing. Qui-Gon has never experienced such raw pleasure. Fire courses through him, lighting up dormant pathways and hidden corners of his body, as if he is becoming more awake, more _alive_ in Obi-Wan’s presence. 

Obi-Wan is strength and speed, fueled by years of restraint. He seeks their mutual ecstasy with his whole body, his spirit incandescent with joy. The sight of him—chest gleaming, shoulders, arms flexing, the power of legs, his abs, light glinting off hair—nearly shorts out the circuits of Qui-Gon’s brain.

“Obi-Wan,” he gasps, reaching up to brush Obi-Wan’s cheek. 

Obi-Wan turns his face into Qui-Gon’s hand with a groan, leans into Qui-Gon’s support while he continues to move inside him. His hand finds Qui-Gon’s own, trembling fingers curling into Qui-Gon’s palm.

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan bites out.

"I'm here, Obi-Wan. I'm here." 

Obi-Wan cries out and squeezes Qui-Gon's hand as if he's hanging on for dear life. "It's too much—I can't—"

"Come here," Qui-Gon demands, as he grips Obi-Wan by the shoulders and pulls him down, capturing his mouth in a kiss.

Qui-Gon loses himself in the feel of Obi-Wan above him, surrounding him, _filling him_. If his focus determines his reality, there is nothing in the world but Obi-Wan, the blaze of forbidden emotion roaring in his chest and the answering conflagration of tenderness and fervour in Obi-Wan's.

They move together, meeting each other thrust for thrust, drawing on the Force for energy and balance, pressure and heat building until the edges of their senses blur and there is only the push-pull, push-pull, push-pull of two bodies driving closer, and closer, and closer until they tip over a final peak and fall together into bliss so profound and uncontainable that flutters away in rippling shocks, defying their attempts to feel the whole of it.

When Qui-Gon comes back to himself, Obi-Wan is collapsed on top of him, chest heaving. Qui-Gon wraps shaking arms around his lov— Obi-Wan— and kisses his forehead. 

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan whispers, hoarse and almost pleading. “I want— to...tell you…”

Qui-Gon swallows, suddenly aware of the edges of _here_ and _now_. Protectiveness wells up in him. “Careful. Obi-Wan. Some words are dangerous.” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flash. “We live in dangerous times,” he states. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, as if pulling himself back from the cold world that waits for them beyond the bed. When he speaks again, his voice trembles and there are tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to leave without...”

Time and space begin to reassert themselves in Qui-Gon’s mind. _I am a foolish man if I deny him this, after everything,_ Qui-Gon chastizes himself. _Foolish, and fearful._ He draws on the Force to steady himself and find his centre, and is rewarded with a hum of quiet reassurance. 

“I don’t either,” he admits with an exhale, relief easing a knot of tension in his chest. He tips Obi-Wan’s chin up. “You know, don't you? Your place in my heart,” he says softly, as his eyes sting with tears. Why is it so hard for him to repeat in words what their bodies have already spoken?

The naked adoration shining from Obi-Wan’s eyes is humbling. Qui-Gon’s heart swells with awe. His former padawan has always been the braver of the two of them. 

“I love you Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan says solemnly, all traces of hesitation gone. “I love you and I will break this rule as the Order breaks into pieces. We have already dishonoured the code a hundred times in the last week...for the sake of violence and slavery. I will not forsake the Order or the Republic, but this does not feel like dishonour, like darkness. And I have seen enough of that in the last few days.”

Obi-Wan’s blue eyes are bright and determined. His mussed hair and bare skin do nothing to undermine his conviction, or the truth in his words. The last of Qui-Gon’s reservations dissipate like clouds borne away on solar wind. 

_Braver, and a much wiser man than I am, _Qui-Gon thinks, as fondness and admiration tighten his throat.__

__He lets his eyes soften with decades of unspoken feeling, and he smiles as he brushes Obi-Wan’s cheek. “Then let me join you. I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And I will protect you til my dying breath. Come back to me.”_ _


End file.
